


Awakening

by CaptainPeggyCarter21



Series: Stolen Nightmares [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BAMF Peggy Carter, Backstory, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bucky Barnes & Winter Soldier are Different Personalities, Bucky Barnes Feels, Canon Related, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Domestic Peggy Carter, Domestic Violence, F/M, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Bucky Barnes, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Kidnapping, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Miscarriage, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, POV Original Character, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Bucky Barnes, Red Room (Marvel), Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Threats of Violence, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Program
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainPeggyCarter21/pseuds/CaptainPeggyCarter21
Summary: They put us on a leash, muzzled us, tried to control us. We were locked in crates, only to be let out for a hunt. But man can neither steer the winds of a hurricane nor control the flames of a wildfire. And together we were a force of nature. So, they separated us. Tore us to pieces bit by bit and stitched us each back together alone. Apart.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Peggy Carter & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Stolen Nightmares [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926307
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, my next work was going to be a Steve-centric piece, but this one took off first. Testing the waters with a short preview, so please leave comments!
> 
> *Title changed from Escape to Awakening*

Cold water dripped down my back, bringing ripples of chills to the surface. The ends of my hair stung at my bare flesh like the tail of a whip. My body ached from weeks of overuse and abuse. Anyone else would have shivered or flinched, but I knew better. I was unshakeable.

I sat with my knees tucked to my chest as the tight braid formed slowly under experienced hands. Hands that enjoyed taking their time. Whether it was twisting a delicate Dutch braid or finishing off a target, my handler couldn’t be rushed – not this one anyway. The one before had a rougher touch.

When the braid dropped down my spine, his stubble scraped at my jaw and his hands spread over the base of my neck. It was almost soft enough to make me drop my guard. His thumbs pressed gently into my muscles, loosening the knots. My aching body screamed against the comfort, prompting a sharp inhale on my part.

“You need to decompress after a mission.”

His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered softly, as if he were calming a frightened animal. Though, he may not have been too far off the mark. His finger trailed under my chin as he made his way in front of me, nudging me to my feet. His eyes softened, studying my face, and he reached a hand out to wipe the blood dripping from my eyebrow. His other hand pressed an ice pack into my hip and inspected the slash wound across my stomach.

I’d barely had time to warmup before I was thrown into my mission. Half my muscle groups were still frozen. A British woman working with the Americans had become quite a problem for Leviathan and, by extension, Hydra. Leviathan couldn’t shake her, so she became my problem. They’d already botched one assassination attempt – the target wasn’t even blonde – and now she was on alert. She was good, better than I anticipated. She eluded me at the club, where she actually was a blonde, and managed to throw my entire team off her scent. This was going to be a long game with Leviathan complicating things at every turn.

My handler tapped my cheek and jerked his chin toward the wall. His hand skimmed my waist as I turned, his fingertips gliding over my ass. I leaned my chest into the wall, hands over my head, wrists crossed. His chest pressed into my back, and his hand knotted in my single braid. The all too familiar feel of his breath on my neck was soon to follow.

It wasn’t something I enjoyed. Although, I can’t say it was something I didn’t either. It just was.

And when it was over, he brought me fresh clothes and walked me back to my quarters. I watched as we walked. My passive observation skills were unmatched. Through an open door, I caught a glimpse of a rugged operative kneeling on the cold concrete, his dark hair knotted in his handler's fist, a red, swollen handprint emblazoned on his cheek. His piercing eyes locked onto mine, and, for a fleeting moment, my heart broke for him. Failure and defeat oozed from his pores, but his abuse was far from over. We both knew that much. A flash of metal sent me reeling. He was like me.

“Кто это?” I whipped around, trying to catch another glance before we rounded the corner. “Who is that?”

A hand between my shoulder blades shoved me on. “Just a soldier.”

“He seemed,” I furrowed my brow, continuing in Russian with the ease of a native, “familiar.”

“He’s the reason you’re alive.” My handler shrugged. “He’s equipped with the original design. Yours has certain improvements.”

I clenched my fist instinctively, listening to the mechanical whir. “No, I knew him.”

“You’ve worked missions together.”

“Why don’t I remember him?” I was trained to remember. My survival often depended on it.

He sighed, dragging me into a room at the end of the hall, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You were partners – in every sense. You were intended to be an elite task force, but your loyalties rested with each other, and we can’t have that.”

“I –” My head throbbed with resurfacing memories, “I loved him.”

“Yes, красавица.” He walked me to a chair and turned to a well-dressed man. “Viktor.”

As the older man approached, I squeezed my eyes shut. Everything hurt.

“She remembers too much.” My handler drew his thumb over my cheek. “Wipe them both.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next time I saw him was like the first time. I had no feelings of intimacy or indications that he did either. I had a mission to complete.

“Am nevoie de o fata.” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. I preferred to speak in Romanian when I could because my handler didn’t, and any soldier would know it. “And preferably one I won’t have to put a bullet in before the end of the mission.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He snarled, nostrils flaring.

“Train them better.” I sat on a table along the wall in the gym and crossed my legs, watching the girls spar. “Young, seven or eight years old.”

He swallowed his animosity and trailed after me. “Language?”

“English, British English if possible.”

He worked his jaw, nodding slowly as he studied his recruits. “Tasks?”

“Blend in, make a friend.”

He cocked his head, still scrutinizingthe girls. “No combat?”

“Only if she screws up.”

He snorted out a laugh and glanced at me before calling a girl over. “She won’t.”

“We’ll see.” I slid off the table and slapped a thick folder against his chest. “Her new identity. Have her in the hangar at first light. She will be quizzed.”

He smirked, a split second of amusement flickering in his eyes. “As expected.”

The girl was good, I had to admit that much. She knew everything in the dossier forward and back. By the time we landed in New York, she’d perfected the Queen's English and adopted a London dialect. Our advanced team had already rented and furnished a house two streets from the target and enrolled Rebecca in the appropriate elementary school. Within a week, I enjoyed afternoon tea in the target’s dining room while Rebecca played with her daughter in the back yard.

“I took a nasty fall while we were moving.” I laughed, glancing at my arm carefully concealed in a sling. “My husband told me to leave to it to him, but I was too stubborn.”

“Well, we can’t let the men have all the fun.” She smiled into the steam rising out of her cup.

I smirked, tapping my flawless manicure against the porcelain. “I only wish I hadn’t proved him right.”

“Tell me more about your husband.”

She was sizing me up. The Leviathan agents really screwed me over. Our sudden appearance raised red flags, and she didn’t trust me. She was good.

I shrugged, waving a hand. “What is there to tell? Aren’t they all the same? Work all day, change into loafers and a smoking jacket after dinner, kiss the kids goodnight, and maybe rub my shoulders before bed.”

She stifled a snicker and took a long sip. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Do you like having two?” I twisted my fingers together nervously. “I’ve always wanted another, but I can’t seem to convince Henry.”

“I honestly don’t think I’d survive if it were just Michelle and I.” She shrugged sheepishly. “She was running me ragged. I lost the luxury of sitting down the moment she learned to walk.”

I wrinkled my forehead. Corralling children was not a task I understood. There were consequences for everything in the Red Room, especially disobedience. None of the recruits would even entertain a thought of misbehaving for fear of severe punishment. Children were a tool, not a privilege.

“And having another,” I raised my eyebrows, “helped?”

“It seems counterintuitive,” she nodded, “but Stevie keeps Michelle entertained for hours. Some days I can even indulge in a bath while a casserole bakes.”

“And,” I dropped my hand nonchalantly to my stomach, “your husband was happy?”

“Oh, darling,” she laid her hand over mine, smiling softly, “use the new, little one as an excuse to sit down every chance you get.”

I let a shrill laugh roll from chest, feigning relief. “You are brilliant.”

“I only speak from experience.” She patted my hand before pulling away and returning to the kitchen for a refill. “Care for another?”

I sunk into my shoulders and forced a blush into my cheeks. “Maybe after a trip to the loo.”

“Of course,” her voice raised a pitch as she motioned toward the hall, “second door on the left.”

I nodded and hurried off in the direction she pointed. Instead of stopping in the bathroom, I ducked into what I already knew to be the master bedroom. All I had to do was swap her lipstick with the one in my purse. She’d be dead in a week from an unidentifiable toxin that would make it look like a heart attack.

I ran my fingers over the sonograms tucked into the mirror. When I noticed the date on the top image, my heart sank. She was pregnant. With a sharp breath, I snatched my hand back and smoothed my hair down, turning out the door.

“Peggy,” I gasped, stumbling back, “you scared me.”

She grabbed my elbows to steady me and grinned. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“You did,” I rubbed my elbow and dropped my gaze. “You know how bad your memory gets when – anyway, by the time I realized my mistake, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Don’t trouble yourself one bit.”

She led me back to the dining room, and I feigned shock at the time, insisting we leave. When we arrived at the safehouse, I briefed my handler, lying about the lipstick, and retired to bed. It took nine days for him to realize I lied. I was heating broth on the stove when my handler burst through the door after his day of surveillance. He yelled, and Rebecca ran, and it was my fault. He yanked my hair and threw me against the wall. I had learned long ago not to fight a punishment. It was something so deeply ingrained, it survived the memory wipes. I crumpled to my knees and flinched as the pot from the stove clattered next to me, splashing boiling broth up my arms and legs.

“She’s pregnant,” I said submissively, pawing at the new burns.

Wrapping his hand in my hair again, he dragged me to my feet. “All the more reason to kill her now.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t.” The slap echoed off the walls, and his ring cut into my cheek. “We’re off the assignment.”

I pinched my eyebrows together. “We?”

“Yes, _we_ ,” he growled. “When you fuck up, it reflects on me.”

Before I managed an apology, he threw me aside and shoved my face into the stove top. My skin sizzled against the burner, searing my cheek and neck. I clenched my jaw and seethed out the pain, not daring to scream. When I was certain it burned to the bone, I couldn’t control myself. My guttural roar filled the house, and he released my head.

“Never make me look bad again.” He smirked as he threw a rudimentary first aid kit in my direction.

Two days later, I trembled in the shower as water washed over my injured face. The door opened and closed quietly before his voice rumbled pleasantly into my ears. The soldier.

“How was she?”

I took a breath and stepped out of the flow of water to steady my voice. “She did fine.”

“Are you protecting her?” he scoffed.

I grunted, bending to wash my legs. “No.”

His boots thudded softly as he paced. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed the sound. “Then why lie?”

“I didn’t.” I rinsed and turned off the water.

He shoved the curtain aside and grabbed me by the jaw, wrapping his fingers under my chin. “If she didn’t screw up, then why am I here?”

“Because I did.” I grit my teeth and tilted my head in his hand.

His eyes widened, taking in the white, ashen spiral. It had not, in fact, burned to bone, only into the muscle. His face softened, and his grip eased.

“What did he do to you?”

I sneered at him. “I failed.”

His jaw locked, and his eyes darkened. “I will kill him.”

“What’s wrong with you.” I slammed my hand over his mouth, looking at the door. “Never say that again.”

His hands closed gently around my arms, pushing me away. “He can’t treat you like that.” He held out a towel.

“He owns me.” I tucked the towel in under my arm and studied his eyes. “I failed.”

He tucked a hair behind my ear and examined the wound delicately. His touch was impossibly soft and his eyes caring. “I will kill anyone who lays a hand on you.”

“Stop saying that.” I pushed him away and snatched the burn cream from the counter.

He grabbed my wrist before I could open the jar and pulled it from my hand. “Let me, Жизнь моя.”

“I don’t know you,” I whispered as his fingers spread the balm over my face.

“I don’t know me either.” His tongue darted over his lips. “But this feels right somehow.”

I swallowed hard, choking on my tongue. Despite his feather light touch, my chin trembled. The oversensitive flesh sent jolts of fire through my entire body. 

He screwed the cap back on, and his eyes came back to mine. "If I’m wrong, I’ll leave. Just say the word.”

I shook my head and nuzzled into his neck, my body molding to his. “You smell like home.”

“People like us don’t get a home.” He pressed his lips into the crook of my neck. “But I have a plan.”

He stalled for a week under the guise of preparing his mission while my face healed. By the time it began to scab over, our handlers had become impatient. We had to make our move, but first, he had to convince my handler to let me back in on the mission.

“The target trusts her. It’s our only way in.”

My handler let out an angry grunt, mulling it over. He jabbed a hand into my throat, pressing his fingers into the fresh scar tissue. “If you embarrass me again, you won’t have a third chance.”

“Well,” I ran my tongue over my teeth, “go ahead and hit me then.”

The soldier braced and tensed his shoulders but remained put. After wiping my freshly bloodied lip, I nodded and followed him out the door.

I drove with the soldier and dropped him off three houses away before continuing to the target's house. All I had to do was stall long enough for him to get in and out. When I pulled into the driveway, I glanced in the mirror, tousled my hair, and wrapped the sling over my shoulder.

I knocked on the door frantically until it flew open. “Peggy,” I gasped, tears rolling down my cheeks, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

The panic in her eyes settled as worry washed over her face. “What happened?” She waved me in and walked me to the couch before returning with a towel of ice.

“I couldn’t stay in that house another moment.” I wiped pathetically at my nose and let my shoulders shake.

She rubbed my back softly and spoke in a hushed voice. “Where’s Rebecca?”

“I sent her to my parents a few days ago, when –” A sob wracked through me, and I touched the scar on my neck. “He tried to get to her.”

“You were smart to get her out.”

“Where’s – Where’s yours?” I already knew, but I needed the confirmation.

“They’re with my mother-in-law, two doors up.” She left reluctantly to heat a pot of tea, and returned, resting a hand on my knee. “I was worried something was wrong with them when I heard your knocking.”

“He swore when we moved he’d do better.” Tears returned to my eyes as I spouted my monologue. “He promised – I thought – he said he loved us more than anything. But his new job fell through, and he started going to bars again, and – he thinks I’m at the grocer's. If he ever found out –”

“It’s alright.” She patted my arm. “You’re safe here.”

I dabbed my fingertips against the split in my lip, wincing away. She left and returned with a damp cloth. I took it gratefully and made my way to the bathroom to clean up. When I shut the door, I turned on the water and opened the medicine cabinet. After sorting through various toiletries, I tucked a small tracking device into the bristles of the little girl’s hairbrush. The target would move her family overnight after this.

The tea kettle whistled as I walked down the hall. The soldier would be finished now. I rolled my shoulders back and wiped the moisture from my face, dropping the sling to the floor.

“Do you know where your children are, Agent Carter?” I sauntered into the living room and raised an eyebrow, dropping onto the couch. “Go on. I’ll wait.”

Her teacups shattered on the floor, and her skirt flared as she whirled around and dashed into the kitchen. Her muttering turned to distressed yelling in seconds. I knew the soldier had taken both children, and now she did too.

A drawer slid open in the kitchen followed by a metallic click before it thudded closed. A sound I knew anywhere, she loaded her spare sidearm. She rounded the corner, weapon drawn and trained on my chest.

“Who are you?”

“Don’t be stupid,” I scoffed. “Do you think I’d be in here if I weren’t expendable?”

She grit her teeth and made her way into the living room. “Then who do you work for?”

“Hydra. Now, here’s what you’re going to do.” She opened her mouth, but I raised my eyebrows and continued, “And you will do it, or you won’t see your children again.”

“Or I could shoot you instead and find them on my own.”

“You could.” I rolled my eyes. “But if I’m not the next person to open that door, you and your kids are dead in under five minutes.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she pursed her lips. “Go on.”

“First, you’re going to lower that weapon.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t even confirmed that you have my kids.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I was worried about that.”

I walked to the front door and swung it open wide, giving her a clear view of the soldier with both children chattering away with Rebecca in the back seat of the car. The clatter behind me made me flinch. I turned to find her leaning against the wall, her pistol on the floor at her feet.

“James?” she whispered.

I slammed the door shut and grabbed her face, tilting her chin up. “Second, you will –”

“I will tear Hydra apart with my own hands,” she snarled, jerking away.

“You won’t.” I stooped to pick up her weapon and checked the chamber.

“Then you don’t know me.”

“I’ve watched you for years.” I tapped the muzzle against my palm and smirked at the clink. “I know everything about you.”

Her nostrils flared, and she squared her shoulders. “I will hunt down every last –”

“You won’t.” I locked my jaw. “You will forget everything you knew of Hydra and find someone else’s life to complicate because if you don’t, we will find you. We will find _them_.”

I levelled the pistol and pulled the trigger. Blood seeped into her dress, and she fell against the wall clutching her stomach. As she sunk to the floor, I approached slowly and crouched in front of her. Her raspy breath blew over my face as I leaned toward her ear and grasped her hair.

“Consider this your warning.” Tossing her head back, I stood and left her with hardly a glance over my shoulder. “Don’t lose another one.”

I gave the soldier a sharp nod as I crossed the yard. He opened the back door and the dark-haired boy toddled toward the house. This was where things got sticky. We were ordered to release both children and come back to the safe house for the return to headquarters. Our plan was to take the girl and run. As far as we could, as fast as we could, and after a few weeks off the grid, start over.

The second I opened the passenger door, a crack echoed up the street, and I slid down the side of the car. Blood poured from my neck, and I could barely breathe. They staged a sniper across the street. We were watched the entire time.

The soldier hit his knees, hands behind his head. The world teetered and faded along the edges of my vision. A dark van skidded to a stop against the curb. His voice filled my ears, and soon became the only thing I was aware of.

“Help her.”

I woke up days later. My burns were healed and the bullet wounds had begun closing, but I didn’t have time to dwell on the unbelievable relief of proper medical care. Within an hour, I was hauled off the cot and dragged down a long, dark corridor.

When they threw me into the concrete room, I almost didn’t recognize the man handcuffed in the corner. Blood covered every inch of skin and matted in his hair. Brownish-purple splotches covered his bare back, ribs showing clearly through the gory mural, and his chest shuddered with every breath. He lifted his head weakly, despite the swelling and bruising over his face. I’d never forget those eyes.

The metal door slammed closed behind me, echoing inside my temples. But I ran – crossed the room faster than I thought possible – and dropped to my knees in front of the soldier. I took his face gently in my hands, throat closing.

“You should’ve run.”

He smirked splitting his lips open, and blood oozed out of the cracks. “They would’ve let you die.”

“James,” the name was barely a breath, but his eyes flashed. “That’s what she called you.”

Before he answered, the door flung open – an impossible task for either of our handlers. The soldier – James – growled, struggling with his restraints as another soldier escorted my handler inside. She snatched my hair and threw me against the opposite wall.

“Don’t touch her.” James yelled.

The last thing I saw was the bottom of a boot. When I woke up next, I had at least three broken ribs, a fractured femur, dislocated shoulder, a few missing fingernails, and an entirely busted face. I don’t remember much in between except my handler assuring me that all assets are locked in crosshairs the second they step off the grounds.

“The only reason you’re alive is because we managed to salvage your mess.” He seethed through gritted teeth, leaning over the chair I was strapped in.

I coughed blood into my lap and rolled my head to the side. “Sorry.”

“It actually worked better.” He squeezed my cheeks and tipped my head back. “She kept going on about how her daughter was taken by a man who’d been dead for a decade who was working for an organization she helped dismantle. We wiped the girl’s memory and dropped her off in the next county.”

He let out a dark chuckle and dropped my head. “Our SHIELD plants have already recruited agents who think she’s off her rocker. All we have to do is slip her some of this new neurotoxin. Mimics Alzheimer’s, she’ll lose all credibility, and her successors will leave us alone for good.”

He turned back to the door, yelling a diminutive, and left me alone. My eyes fell shut, and I slumped as far forward as the strap across my chest would allow. I knew this chair. I didn’t know why, but I knew it wasn’t good. Everything hurt.

My heart fluttered when James walked in. His heavy eyes focused on the cement floor. When his handler followed, my heart sank. I would never see him again.

“Please,” his tired voice gave way to desperation, “not again.”

The state of his injuries told me it had been at least two weeks since the last time I saw him. He looked better and worse altogether. His wounds healed, but he hadn’t slept in days. He barely supported himself as he slid down the wall. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands pressing into his eyes. I wanted to go to him, stroke his cheek, play with his hair. The urge was unexplainable, but all I felt in the moment was the need to comfort him.

“Don’t hurt her,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “I’ll do anything.”

“Don’t worry, Умница.” His handler patted his cheek. “She won’t remember it, and neither will you.”

“Leave her alone.” He slammed a fist into the wall. “ _Please._ Just leave her alone.”

His handler left abruptly, and tears welled in my eyes.

“You don’t even know me.” I shook my head. Nothing made sense.

“I don’t think that’s true.” His eyes were soft, locked on me. “And I don’t think you do either, Жизнь моя.”

“James,” I sighed, “I. Don’t. Know. You.”

He knocked his head back against the wall. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Not after the next five minutes.”

My breath caught in my throat as my brain came full circle to weeks ago. “Why didn’t you run?”

“I couldn’t.”

Before I wrapped my mind around his answer, a small team of engineers stormed in. I tensed instinctively as dread knotted in my stomach. I threw my head against the back of the chair and whimpered. One of the engineers held a bite guard in front of my face, and I inexplicably opened my mouth.

The engineers worked silently, lowering a machine to cradle my face. The soldier’s protests were drowned by the crackle of electricity and my own suppressed screams. Lightning coursed through my veins. My muscles contracted violently, crushing my bones. My head throbbed, my veins pulsed, my heart raced. My skin was on fire.

A man in a suit stood in front of me with a red book. _“_ гнев.”

The soldier stilled. My head spun.

“разрушение.” The man continued, drawing anguished moans from the soldier.

Another jolt of electricity scrambled my thoughts.

“Тридцать два. рассвет.”

The room faded away. It already hurt so much. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think.

“Один. доброкачественный.”

I thrashed in protest, willing myself to stay coherent.

 _“_ Возвращение на Родину.”

When he finished, he would start again. A long wave of electricity broke my concentration, and I slipped away. I lost myself in the pain and chaos.

“Два.” The man in the suit was undeterred by the soldier’s screams.

I couldn’t keep doing it. I wanted stay with the soldier – to fight what they were doing to me. I wanted to love him. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hold on, not even for him. Everything hurt.

“Отсутствует.” With the final word, the machine around me sparked, and spasms wracked through me as every muscle in my body convulsed.

My chest heaved. My head hung limply. I licked my lips, and my eyes fluttered open.

“Я жду приказаний.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more depth. What do you think now? Everyone still interested?


	3. Chapter 3

I stumbled after my target gasping for air. A roundhouse kick to the kidneys had all but taken me out of commission. My vision swirled and stomach turned. Something was off. As I slid around the corner, a boot collided with my stomach and sent me reeling back. My back slammed into the ground, knocking the wind from lungs. My stomach lurched, and I rolled onto my stomach, wrapping an arm over my middle. I hurled, and I hurled again and again, spewing a mouthful of bile as heavy footfalls raced up behind me.

“If you’re going to be a disappointment,” My commander’s voice rang through my head, threatening to spur another convulsion, “at least get out of my way.”

My arms shook under my weight as I pushed to my feet. “Something’s wrong.”

The strong, blonde turned on me snarling. “You just cost us the mission.”

I swatted away her attempted reprimand and leaned heavily into the wall. “No, with me. Something is wrong with me.”

Her braid bounced along her spine as she stalked toward me. There was no dodging this one, not in my condition. Her knuckles cracked across my cheekbone while her other hand darted at lightning speed to grab a fistful of hair. She dragged me to the center of the room where the other assets had gathered and pulled me back to my feet, still clutching my braid.

“You’ve been slow and clumsy. Careless.” She accentuated each word with a tug of my hair. “You’re losing your touch, and I won’t hesitate to put you out of your misery.”

She released my hair while simultaneously planting a boot in my back. Our radios crackled as I hit the floor.

“You will do no such thing.”

The handful of elite soldiers sneered at me as they passed, marching through the door. The last in the line, a bulky man with dark hair, kicked at my foot and crouched by my head.

“You won’t always be daddy’s princess.”

Our handler barked his name, and he snapped to attention. I didn’t hear the order over my vertigo, but I was suddenly hoisted over his shoulder and carried back to the Humvees. My handler dragged me into his SUV, and we drove off without the others. Before I knew it, we were in town at a local clinic.

“You’re my wife.” He locked eyes with me. “You’re not feeling well after a fall down the stairs.”

I nodded obediently and followed him out of the car. After an ungodly wait, my alias was called, and we made ourselves at home in an exam room. The walls were stark white, an unnerving contrast to my home of concrete and cement. The lights didn’t flicker either, and the air smelled clean. It made my skin crawl.

My handler answered most of the questions as the nurse ran through my medical history. I took over with my current symptoms modifying my story to fit the cover. She was a lovely lady, kind and patient. I wanted to leave.

“One last thing.” She turned to me before opening the door. “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

My handler squeezed my arm and smiled sheepishly. “With any luck.”

The nurse smiled warmly and left us alone. The peaks of my lips twitched as I sucked in a breath.

“What did you do to me?” My voice seethed out between my teeth. “I can’t –”

“Everything can be reversed.” He smirked. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping an eye on things.”

“What did you do?”

He threw me a sideways glance and returned his attention to the door. “We’re trying some things.”

I took a deep breath. “Did I have any say in which one of you –”

“No, no, no, воробушек.” His eyes glistened with amusement. “You’ve only begun the fertility treatments.”

“And then?” My head throbbed as I searched my memories for these _treatments._

He waves a hand. “One of the soldiers will be selected in the coming weeks.”

“My missions?” I wrinkled my brow.

“This is your mission now.”

Anger flooded my chest. “I am a highly trained, incredibly successful assassin, not a broodmare.”

“You are,” he grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back, “whatever I say you are.”

The jolt of movement sent another wave of nausea through me. I pressed a hand into my pelvis to counteract the stabbing sensation.

“If we weren’t in public, I’d break your fucking arm.” He lips brushed my ear with every word. “I’ll remember this when we return.”

As the handle turned, he released me and straightened his jacket. “Doctor, please tell me it’s nothing serious.”

“I’d have to take an ultrasound to be sure.” A small, round, balding man chirped. “But her symptoms point to ovarian torsion.”

“Is that-” He cut himself off with a swallow.

“She’ll be fine if she gets into surgery soon. I’ll call ahead.”

My handler nodded along and grasped the doctor’s hand firmly. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist and helped me hobble out of the office. The second the door shut behind us, he shoved me aside and strutted to the car alone. The drive was unbearably long on an unpaved road. Every bump and jostle brought a new flash of heat and pain. By the time we arrived at the compound, I was certain I’d pass out.

The surgery was performed by Hydra doctors with a bare minimum of anesthetic. I almost would have preferred staying in the car. And when I healed, it didn’t feel any better. The surgery revealed that their little concoction had given me a severe case of ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. In another cruel twist of fate, there was a small window for impregnation.

I waited in a small, bare bedroom cradling my stomach. Movement hurt, and a fever left me half delirious. When the door opened, I wasn’t entirely sure anyone real entered until he touched my face.

“Oh, fuck me,” I groaned, pulling away.

The bulky soldier with dark hair grinned. “That’s the idea, princess.”

“Don’t touch me.” I snarled, settling on the thin mattress.

He paced the room leisurely, stripping off layers, and stopped in front of me. “I don’t think they’d be too happy with that.”

“At least it’ll be over quick.” I dropped onto my back and whimpered as the springs creaked.

“Keep talking.” He bent over the bed and hovered over me. “Because for the next three days, you’re mine.”

His thrusts jarred my insides and made bile rise in the back of my throat. That didn’t slow him down, but fortunately it didn’t last long. The next three days all passed the same. The ache in my lower abdomen eased slightly, but not enough.

A month later, it became painfully obvious that it didn’t take. I laid agonizing in my bed for a week before returning to normal missions. A month after that, another soldier had a weekend visit. Two months later another, and then another. They were rough and fast and determined. None of them seemed to care for me. It always hurt. _I_ always hurt. Even in the field, the cramps and nausea were inconvenient on the best days.

I couldn’t say I hated the new arrangement. At least I got to sleep on a mattress for a few weeks, even if I did have to share for a few nights. The food was better than our mess hall – not cold cuts and boiled vegetables. I didn’t have to go to training either. And my accommodations improved after each failure.

“No.” My handler burst through the door with a doctor in tow. “Absolutely not.”

The doctor rolled a stool next to my bed and dropped his bag on the nightstand. “The others are too rough with her. Stressing her further will only make things worse.”

“She cannot see the American.” He growled, resting against the desk in the corner. “If it takes, we can’t wipe her. It’s too risky.”

“So, strap her to the bed.” The doctor listened intently to my heart and took several vials of blood. “It’s not like any of these assets are here by choice.”

My handler watched the doctor press a cotton ball into my arm and continue with his examination. “It’s easier when they follow instructions.”

“Well, do you want easy, or do you want a super-soldier breeding program?” The doctor rolled the stool back and stood, gathering his things. “I’ll run the blood tests, but I have no reason to believe her ovulation will depart from schedule.”

Four days later a new soldier entered my room. He watched me silently, unmoving. His dark hair fell over his face, hiding his empty eyes. He stood rigid and didn’t make a move for me. I waved toward the bed, and he sat.

“It’s okay.” I made my way across the room to him. “Rest. They won’t bother you here.”

He stared and gave a small nod. “Not tired.”

I touched his face softly and sucked in a gasp. “You’re still cold.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been under. My team rarely went into cryo except when absolutely necessary. I wrapped my blanket around his shoulders and warmed his fingers in one hand. His bionic hand tugged the blanket tighter. As I pulled away, he thanked me and tucked his chin to his chest.

I took a seat at my desk and began sketching on scraps of paper. I wasn’t any good, but it was something to do besides pace the edge of the room. I had learned to work a great deal of dimension from a single pencil.

“What’s your codename?” His brow furrowed as he studied my bionic arm.

“воробушек,” I answered without looking up.

He shook his head while looking at the floor. “That’s not right.”

I let out a snort. “You can ask my handler when he picks you up.”

He bit his lip, distress spreading over his features, and I was overwhelmed by a desire to comfort him. As I combed his hair back, an unexplainable need pooled in my core. He made no advance. He showed no interest. He barely even spoke. But he made my hair stand on end.

He blushed as my fingers brushed his temples, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes burned through me, heating every inch of my skin. My fingers slid easily through his hair. I was drawn to him, held close by some mysterious magnetism. I couldn’t stop touching him.

I licked my lips and swallowed hard. “What are you doing to me?”

His hands settled on my hips. “Just following orders.”

My heart dropped. I took a shaky step back and let out a breath.

The lines in his forehead deepened, and he stood to meet me. “That wasn’t right.”

“No,” I snipped, “you’re right. This is my mission.”

“I upset you.” He reached a hand toward my jaw hesitantly before withdrawing it. “I didn’t – want to do that.”

Confusion settled in his face. His face contorted as confliction rose from his chest. He didn’t know what he wanted – what he was allowed to want. I couldn’t blame him. It was a slippery slope that only ended in disappointment and pain.

I took a deep breath and stripped my clothes off unceremoniously. “Where do you want me?”

He shrugged, looking around. “It’s your room.”

I pushed him slowly onto the bed and worked at his shirt while he tugged at his belt. When his clothes were free, he kicked his boots off and rolled back, pulling me on top of him. I settled over his lap and groaned, rubbing my aching lower back.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes flared with concern.

“I just –” I shook my head, taking measured breaths. “It’s the treatment. Sudden movements hurt.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, tracing his fingertips over my curves. “The freezer makes my joints stiff.”

“We don’t have to.” I slid off his legs and pulled the blanket back over his shoulders. “We can wait until you warm up a little.”

His fingers dug into my muscle. “No, the goal was very clear.”

“Right.” I gave a sharp nod and straddled him once more. “Then just –”

“If it’s a success,” his eyes locked onto mine, and his thumb skimmed over my cheek, “maybe they’ll let me see you again.”

My chest tightened, and I kissed him gently. “I would like that.”

“I think I would too.” His nose crinkled with his broad smile.

He gently wrapped my legs around his waist and slid one hand up my back and between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest to his. The other hand curved around my butt and gave him the leverage he needed. His gentle rocking made me groan into his neck.

“Is this better?” His husky voice sent shivers down my spine.

All I could do was nod against his shoulder. His hands were soft and his movements gentle. He didn’t rush himself or degrade me. The slow, smooth sway of his hips eased the twinge in my stomach. At the slightest sign of my discomfort, he stilled and spent several long minutes guiding his lips over my skin until he was convinced the pain had subsided. He didn’t begrudge the extra time or effort – and it took a great deal of time. Afterwards, he laid down on his side and pulled me next to him. I couldn’t stop the smile that spread over my face as he looked me over.

“How do you feel?”

I rested my hand over my stomach. “I’m always sore.”

He wedged his hand under mine and kissed behind my ear. “I’m so sorry.”

His hands were bigger than mine and covered most of my stomach. The heat of his palm slowly soothed away the deep ache. I scooted over and pressed my back to his chest, letting him wrap an arm under my head. Comfortable for the first time I could remember, his steady breath on my neck lulled me to sleep.

The following days moved slowly, giving me a sense of tranquility. And they passed all too quickly. Before I knew it, they were dragging him away and leaving me in isolation. I curled on my bed already aching from his absence. Inevitably, my discomfort worsened over the weeks. The cramps intensified first, then the nausea. A month passed, and the symptoms continued. My appetite grew, and soon after I was allowed to make requests for food. My skin even turned a shade resembling healthy.

A few weeks later, I was taken to the medical wing for an ultrasound. I wasn’t allowed to see the screen. It was never my baby. I belonged to Hydra, and so did everything I had. Strangely, the thought had never bothered me before. I knew the purpose of my mission. But this felt different. It wasn’t just a mission. It was personal.

When I saw the soldier through the open door, his brow furrowed. As his eyes turned to the monitor facing the door, his face lit up. His handler returned to his side and commanded him to keep moving. When he didn’t flinch, his handler jammed her elbow into his ribs. The soldier snatched her arm and threw her into the wall, knocking her unconscious. He raced to my side and brushed my hair away.

“моя?”

I smiled and nodded vigorously, but my handler grabbed me by the chin and tore my gaze from the soldier.

“Do not speak to him.”

He raised his arm, but the soldier grabbed his wrist before his hand could strike my face.

The soldier closed his fist with an audible crunch. “она моя.”

He demanded the doctor resume his scan and voice his findings aloud. The doctor began discussing my health with the soldier as my handler moved silently. When he pulled his sidearm, I quickly disarmed him.

I was rewarded with an elbow to the nose, and a shot rang through the room. The soldier fell to his knees, clamping a hand over the back of his thigh. His handler leaned heavily in the doorway, weapon still raised. My handler yanked his gun from my hands as I sat stunned. He slammed the handgrip into the side of my head and yelled at the soldier’s handler in angry Russian.

“He was supposed to be wiped clean immediately – hard reset.”

The soldier’s handler glared at mine and shoved her knee into the soldier’s back. “He was.”

“Well, it didn’t take.” He waved the doctor from the room.

She growled an activation code before whispering harsh instructions in the soldier’s ear, and he left obediently.

My handler’s lips twitched. “Take care of him.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” She stalked after the soldier.

As they left, I jumped from the exam table, bolting toward the door. My handler snatched a fistful of my hair and jerked my head back, cracking my neck.

“What will happen to him?” I silently cursed my unsteady voice.

He pressed the pistol under my jaw and hissed, “If you ever see him again, it will be to kill him.”

I stuck my chin out to cover the trembling. He didn’t bluff. And I couldn’t fight him.

I spent the next week banging on walls and screaming for answers. I begged every visitor I had for information on the soldier. What had they done to him? Where did they take him? My doctor didn’t know anything. Neither did the operative who brought my food. The night guard hadn’t seen the soldier since the day I broke him, but he’d heard the screams from other end of the building. The widow recruit they sent to keep me company refused to acknowledge his existence. I didn’t see my handler.

One morning, before the morning shift made their rounds, I woke to unbearable cramps and blood on the sheets. My back ached, and my knees wobbled as I stood. I already knew the bleeding would only worsen as the cramps intensified. I stripped down to my undergarments to mitigate my rising temperature and laid on the cool, concrete floor. When the guards finally checked my room, I told them to retrieve my handler.

Hours later, I leaned against the wall, staring absently at the landscape scene I’d sketched and taped to the wall. When the door swung open, I tightened my arms around my middle. My handler cursed under his breath and shouted down the hall at someone to take my linens to the laundry house. And the door clanged behind him.

I cried for days, and was punished for the sentiment, unable to mask the tears when my handler escorted the medic to my room. The medic cleared me for missions and left me alone with my handler.

“Is he even still alive?” My throat closed as I looked up from my bed.

In answer, my handler dragged me down a maze of halls. I didn’t resist. It didn’t matter. We arrived at a reset room, and he threw me on the floor. I didn’t look up from the black boots in front of my face. I didn’t move.

“Get. Up.”

The deep, authoritative voice made my heart stop and my head snap up. This was worse.

The soldier glared down at me before yanking me up, dislocating my shoulder. My pained groan only made him smirk.

He threw a glance over his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Break her.” A dark grimace spread across my handler’s face.

The scrape of metal filled the room as he dragged the chair from the corner and set it in the center of the front wall. He sat down gingerly and crossed his arms over his chest. His head tilted to the side, eyes glittering with amusement. “And take your time.”


	4. Chapter 4

My feet scrambled over the floor as I stumbled across the empty office. The door slammed behind the operative. He was strong, especially for a strategist. He had decided to pay the compound a visit to observe the selection process for the recently vacated role in the Winter Soldier program. Being in charge of the training, I was assigned to show him around.

“I told you I’m not interested.” I locked my jaw and looked him over.

The lock clicked before he advanced on me. “I don’t remember asking, ma poupée.”

He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger and bared his discolored teeth in an intended-to-be-charming smile. I snatched his wrist away and twisted his arm behind his back, slamming his head into the desk. I smirked at the crisp snap of his arm. I was given many orders. Pleasing him – in any way – was not one of them.

I released him, and he cursed as he stood. He spun around as I headed for the door. His large hand wrapped around my wrist and locked me in viselike grip. He had gotten this idea from an unfortunate incident with one of the Soldiers a few days earlier.

“I will get what I want.”

“Then, you will get it from someone else.” I whirled back quickly, yanking my arm away.

I couldn’t break his grip, and he pulled me back, with surprising strength, thrusting his forehead into my temple. With my head still spinning, he shoved me to the floor with great speed and skill, using a technique our advanced field operatives were taught. He was more than a strategist. His knee dug into my thigh, effectively pinning me to the floor. My arm remained locked in his grasp as he tucked it to my chest and leaned his weight into me. A thin blade slipped under my waistband, cool metal pressing into my stomach.

Threads popped against the knife as I adjusted my footing. I threw my hips off the ground to no avail. He had positioned himself intentionally to minimize my leverage. I did manage to shift his balance, forcing him to release my arm. In a flurry of movement, I slipped the knife from his grasp, slashing my hand open. He shoved me back to the ground, jolting the breath from my lungs. We traded blows and struggled for dominance until, finally, I had an opening.

I thrust the blade under his chin and through his jaw. Blood gurgled from the back of his throat, pouring down my arm and onto my chest. He spluttered out screams, splashing large droplets of blood onto my face. I twisted the blade sharply as I threw him to the side. Every gasp for air speckled the concrete with more evidence of our disagreement. Pain and panic flooded his eyes as he convulsed on the floor.

I dragged myself to my feet, rubbing the ache from my thigh. He was heavier than he looked. The room seemed much larger with my slight limp. When I opened the door, my three candidates snapped to attention in the hall. They knew enough not to interrupt operatives at work.

“If you’re going to take something by force,” I growled, edging through the door, “you better be damn sure you have the skill.” I shook blood from my hand and looked over the three potential Soldiers. “Take him to medical and meet me in the chopper bay.”

These three were among those who had been hand selected to compete for the privilege of becoming a Winter Soldier. I had had spent the last month weeding out the weakest candidates. I didn’t understand their eagerness to join the team. It was the most elite force in Hydra, but I couldn’t remember a single perk of being a Soldier. They couldn’t have understood the impossibility of the training. And they certainly had no idea what it meant to transition from an operative to an asset. Although, many of them didn’t have a choice. In fact, only one of the remaining three joined Hydra voluntarily.

A half hour later we hovered two stories above the snow-covered, Siberian mountainside. Their task was simple: survive the drop and return to the compound. Of course, the well-below-freezing temperatures, bitter wind, and lack of preparation complicated matters, but that was the point. They each had a pack, one with food and water, one with sheltering supplies and clothing, and one with navigation equipment. None had enough for three, and none of them knew that yet. And they wouldn’t until we were long gone.

I had grown tired of the process, and this was certain to narrow the field to one. If two returned, they could fight to the death. This particular test would buy me at least three days, more than enough time for a mission.

It wasn’t our usual kind of mission, to be sure. We were headed for Pripyat to recover documents and files concerning the investigation of a power plant explosion. Hydra wanted to get there before the Party made things disappear, and the Soldiers were the only option. No one else could go anywhere near the plant itself. If it took us three days, we were as good as dead. It was doubtful that we would walk out at all.

We arrived as the very first drops of sun leaked over the horizon, and we found the city sealed. No one in, only medical transport out. Phone lines were cut. We didn’t know what happened, but we knew we had to get in and out. The easiest ruse was emergency personnel. We raided a firetruck just outside the city limits and assumed new identities. No one asked questions as we passed through the barricades, waving us through without even slowing down. The town was nearly as dreary as our facility, but nothing stood out. The people were intrigued by the incident. Even we, with all our conditioning, stopped short when we caught sight of the plant.

The air was on fire.

But we had a mission. We scoured every file cabinet, desk drawer, and wall safe we could find, stuffing our packs full. One of the men took pictures from a safe distance until the pen-camera stopped working – shitty Stark tech. We had to incapacitate one, overly curious police officer attempting to discern our purpose at the site. After seventeen hours, State Security was onto us and we were forced to clear out before stirring up excessive suspicion. We sheltered in the ambulance bay of the hospital waiting to ambush a ride out. As a truck pulled in, we took our positions and relieved the drivers of the vehicle. I threw open the back door, and a young mother looked up at me as a toddler whined in her arms.

“It hurts, мамочка.” The tiny redhead rubbed her stomach and shuddered with a dry heave.

The woman’s eyes darted between my team members, her scrutinizing gaze taking in every detail. She locked her jaw as she eyed my sidearm, and her pleading eyes met mine.

“Take her.”

My lips parted with a sharp inhale before I barked at her to leave.

"пожалуйста.” She reached for my arm and begged again. “She will die here.”

I should have pulled my weapon and removed them both by force. But her desperation made my chest tighten, and I instinctively dropped a hand to my stomach. I knew the look in her eyes. I knew that pain.

So, I took the girl. Slung her over my shoulder and shoved the mother out. The girl’s clammy skin burned against my neck. When I set her down, I knew she was in trouble. She could barely hold herself up, and the other soldiers only made it worse.

“We’ll keep her for Ivan.” I hoisted her into my lap and rested my chin on her head, quietly assuring myself, “She will be an asset.” Because the alternative was unthinkable. 

When we returned, I left my pack with the others and carried her to medical. The doctors knew immediately what was wrong with her. As they gave her a handful of tablets, a tall man slunk into the room.

“Who is she?” His voice made my skin crawl.

“Ivan.” The nurse stepped forward and shook his hand. “The Asset can fill you in.”

My eyes flashed at the nurse, and she shrunk behind her machines. Grinding my teeth, I returned my attention to the man. “She was in our exfil vehicle. Looked good for the Widow program.”

Ivan’s eyes narrowed at me before he shifted to examine the girl. “She’s young.”

“More time for training.” I rolled my shoulders to dispel the strange jitteriness under my skin.

He jerked his chin in a nod. “We’ll see.”

I let out a breath and glanced briefly at the girl. “What will you call her?”

He rattled off a number, smirking as he slid a finger over her cheek. “Until she’s earned a name.”

I checked in on her several times over the next few days. The nausea subsided, but sores erupted soon after. The Soldiers landed in medical one by one with the same symptoms, though less severe cases. The experience was worsened by the fact that none of us could remember ever even having the sniffles. Nonetheless, our illness faded quickly. My candidates had returned by the time I recovered – all three of them, to my dismay. How they managed that, I’ll never know.

Now, I had to think of a way to narrow it down to one. Of course, there was always the option of dropping them in the wilderness with no supplies, or sending them into a battle royale with the Soldiers. But those were both likely to kill all my candidates, and I didn’t care to start from scratch. I had tested their strength every way imaginable – and their marksmanship. I needed to put them on their toes and test their ability to improvise.

As I considered my options, I watched my girl train. Ivan said she was the youngest we’d ever put in the program, and she was the smallest of the current class by far. For that reason, I was allowed to give her additional training. She could barely walk when I found her, but in only a few weeks she had mastered a rear mount and was working on the rear naked choke against girls twice her size. She understood French and English, speaking both as much as she did Russian. She was a truly impressive recruit. I had taken to calling her Крошка when we were alone. She seemed to like it well enough. Whether it was the term of endearment or simply being more than a number, she always beamed when I entered the room. I hated to leave her, knowing she’d be punished for any fondness she had known me.

But my primary responsibility was my mission, and I had to put my candidates in the field. I needed something that was a challenging as typical Soldier missions but not impossible – something I could salvage if they screwed it up. It was a simple drop. All they had to do was the leave an envelope containing the information we recovered from Pripyat on the underside of a bench and maintain surveillance to ensure it didn’t fall into the wrong hands. And it would. To make it interesting, I made sure State Security knew the details of the drop. Any Soldier should be able to handle the KGB without so much as blinking. These candidates needed to prove themselves.

I watched the meet from the scope of a sniper rifle on the eighth floor of the building across the street. The radio chattered in my ear, keeping me apprised of the situation. They talked too much, but that was fixable. I was testing their ability to react appropriately under pressure. The drop itself went smoothly. No one took special interest.

As a KGB agent skirted the park, I waited patiently for one of my candidates to spot him. It took them entirely too long, even after I reminded them what our contact should be wearing. The burly male candidate rushed the agent immediately after my hint and sent the entire park into a panic. Not to be outdone, the other male candidate – the taller one – followed suit. The muscular Belarusian girl watched and waited. I trained my crosshairs on the bench. If anyone I didn’t know got too close, they’d be dead before they took another step.

When shots rang out, my Belarusian rushed across the street. I followed her retreat, assuming she was fleeing while I was distracted. But she veered toward another agent and disarmed him before his weapon is raised. With that man unconscious, she spun toward her teammates. My two men struggled with a small group of undercover KGB agents in the middle of the park. Civilians scattered, sprinting to get away from the commotion.

“The priority is keeping our intel secure.” I watched my girl pause in the middle of the street, torn by my update. “They know what to do if they’re taken in.”

She cast another brief glance at the scuffle before darting back to the designated bench. As she ripped the envelope out from under the bench, the burly candidate broke free. She stood and took off running across the street, melting seamlessly into the crowd. The burly man barreled toward my girl, falling into step beside her.

When the two candidates ducked into the alley by my building, I turned my attention back to my tall man. One of the agents slammed the butt of his pistol into the back of my man’s head. Another wrenched his arms behind his back and closed cuffs around his wrists. A “hail Hydra" crackled over the radio before his body convulsed and crumpled to the ground.

I broke down my rifle and packed up my nest. It was a shame, really. He was my handler’s favorite. The other two met me in the alley, and we trudged two blocks to our pickup location. Within minutes, an unremarkable SUV pulled up to the curb hauled us back to headquarters.

The spectacular failure was actually quite a success. One of my candidates eliminated himself, and only one of the two left had displayed any sort of strategic thought process. My choice now was simple. Send the girl to the lab and the man back to his team, tail tucked between his legs. The Soldiers couldn’t afford to take risks on unpredictable assets. Our missions were the toughest Hydra had. Complications were highly likely, and running straight for the target, weapons drawn was rarely the solution. Although, not never.

The Winter Soldiers had gained a “shoot first, ask questions later" reputation. It came from the legend of The Ghost. He – or she – was supposedly the first Winter Soldier, though none of us could remember him. The Ghost only had one task – eliminate the target. He got in, he got out. What happened in between was anybody’s guess, but one thing was certain: anything that came between him and his target was destroyed. The news covered the chaos following his alleged missions. The intelligence community credited him with all sorts of assassinations from President Kennedy to rogue secret police, but he’d never been seen. For me, that was enough proof that he didn’t exist. He was a myth, perpetuated by Hydra to instill fear in its enemies. Though, few people even knew Hydra existed anymore. It still made Soviet opposition anxious. And, it just so happened, that those who opposed the Soviet government were also Hydra’s enemies.

When we arrived, I sent the candidates to the mess hall and set off to find my handler. I stood with my hands behind my back in front of him and relayed my report. His backhand didn’t surprise me. I was accustomed to his anger by now. But when he drew his weapon, it me off guard. I stumbled back, still covering my cheek and instinctively assuming a submissive posture. It didn’t matter. Before I could open mouth to calm him, there was a bullet in my knee – well, just above it. He wasn’t a good shot. I grunted, fighting the drop to the floor, and seethed the pain out between my teeth.

“He followed protocol,” I stuttered, recalling the tall man’s demise. “He used the escape plan and – I watched it happen. I know he did.”

My handler was silent, rage boiling under his skin.

“I had to test them.” I backed away clumsily as he advanced, my gaze focused on the bloody hole in my thigh. “They have to be ready for anything. These missions –”

He ignored my reasoning, rushing toward me. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling harshly and ripping strands out by the roots. I squeezed my eyes shut and locked my jaw. Before I could react, he slammed my head into the wall, splitting my forehead down the middle. A growl barely escaped my lips before my skull smashed into the concrete again, and the world tumbled on its side. After a third blow, he released me with a grunt, leaving the room as he snarled about useless assets.

I slid to the floor slowly, cradling my throbbing head. My leg trembled. My mind ran in circles. My heart skipped every other beat. My hands shook. I didn’t do anything wrong.

I pulled myself off the ground and dragged my hand across my lip, smearing blood across my knuckles. I was stronger than anyone in this compound besides the other Soldiers. Smarter too, and faster. They had the newer serum, but I had the bionic arm. When it came down to it, I was a decent match for any of them. Yet, here I was, soaking in my own blood because this prick with an inferiority complex couldn’t afford a hooker.

It would not happen again.

I set out to find my Крошка, limping at first. Soon, I straightened up, walking mostly normally, blood trailing behind. Still reeling, I balanced myself against the walls, leaving sticky, red handprints along the way. Everyone stared. No one dared ask. Curiosity was dangerous in a place like this. Too much attention could earn you the same punishment.

I checked the classroom and the dormitories, but Крошка wasn’t there. I didn’t find her in the Red Room either. As I wracked my jumbled brain for any other locations she could be, but nothing came to me. I began pacing the halls of the girls’ wing, hoping I’d stumble onto an idea – or, better yet, Крошка. But when I did, my heart stopped.

The sight of his meaty hand wrapped around her tiny arm, dragging her toward an old closet made my blood boil. Heat swelled in my chest, and I locked my jaw. Before I even knew I’d drawn my weapon, the trigger was pulled. The shot echoed up the hall, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. I watched as the Red Room instructor’s eyes went dull. It wasn’t until Крошка jerked away that his body slid down the wall, leaving a crimson smear behind. The gore surrounding the eye-level hole in the concrete gave the illusion that the wall itself was bleeding.

The entire corridor stilled. Instructors froze in horror, and the girls shrunk away. All eyes were on me. I wiped at the blood streaming over my brow and jerked my chin toward Крошка. I didn’t dare meet the gaze of onlookers as I led her away.

“Was he going to hurt me?” Крошка whispers flatly.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye, steering her into a training room. “Yes.”

She planted herself in the corner while I took the first aid kit off the wall. She had aged years in the months she had been here. Her eyes didn’t glimmer the way they did when I brought her in. Her skin had turned ashen weeks ago and new scars set in every day. Her hands were calloused and her face ruddy. This couldn’t be what her mother wanted for her.

I dropped onto a bench in the corner. “How are you?”

Her eyebrows wrinkled and she tilted her head.

I let out a sigh. “How do you feel?”

She rubbed a hand over her shoulder. “One of the other girls made my shoulder pop funny. I’ll be better soon.”

“No, I –” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Are you scared? Upset?”

She shook her head absently.

I nodded slowly and turned my attention to my leg. There was still a bullet lodged somewhere near my kneecap. I took my belt off, doubled it up and gripped it between my teeth. As I dug the tweezers into the wound, my jaw locked down, my teeth sinking into the fabric. Dropping the deformed metal on the floor, I took a deep breath and poured alcohol over the bullet hole, seething again.

Крошка’s eyes widened, her chest heaving. I wiped at my face again, clearing any lingering mess and met her gaze.

I smirked. “Good. Anger is a powerful tool.”

I wrapped a bandage around my knee and stood tentatively. After a few paces, I turned back to her and took a fighting stance. She mirrored me and began running through the movements I taught her.

“It triggers adrenaline.” I breathed, countering her strikes. “Makes you stronger.” I grabbed her wrist and pinned it behind her back before pushing her away. “Faster.”

She resumed her position and nodded at me to start again. Soon I had her pinned to the floor, and we started over.

“Anger is the only emotion worth having,” I huffed and tossed her into the wall. “Everything is weak, selfless. But anger –” She headbutted my nose before I swept her legs out from under her. “Anger is self-serving. It’ll –”

The door slammed into the wall, and the man who trained the girls in combat strolled in. “Above all that.” His rich voice lilted out with a contradictory calmness. “It’s stupid.”

I spun to face him, nudging Крошка behind me.

“Makes you act out.” He swatted me aside easily, to my surprise. “Do things you know you shouldn’t.”

He took a knee in front of the girl and tipped her chin up. “Your class is with Instructor Petrov.” He jerked his head toward the door, stepping to the side.

After she ran away, he turned back to me. Realizing what he was, I braced myself. There was no other explanation for his strength. He was a soldier. One I couldn’t remember. That made him dangerous.

He squared his shoulders and waited. I grew impatient and obliged, rushing at him. He was strong, but I was fast. The blows he landed hit hard, but I was tough. He was bigger than me. I had to get control of his limbs. I ducked under a swing and darted behind his back. Before he could spin around, I jumped onto his back and wrapped my belt around his neck. Using my new leverage, I hefted one leg over his shoulder and locked my ankles across his chest, trapping his bionic arm. My only disadvantage was the concussion I still had. He backed into the corner, and I leaned into him to steady myself. The second I got close enough, he tossed his back, colliding with mine. The secondary impact on the wall behind me was enough to send the room spinning, and I dropped to the ground.

A kick to the ribs spurred me to roll out of his reach and stagger to my feet. My first strategy didn’t work. I had to get him on the ground. I’d be at a disadvantage with the hole in my leg, but it was certainly better than fighting him head on. His fist landed in my gut, and my knee collided with his ribs. My elbow, his nose. His boot, my ankle. We traded blows for what felt like an hour, before he shoved me against the wall with his knife in my side. The concrete scraped over my skin, and the blade bit into my shirt. I dug my hand into his hair and slammed his forehead into the wall at the same time I wrenched the knife from his hand and jammed it into his thigh.

Now he had a handicap too. Not that it mattered in the end. No sooner did I hit my knees than the muzzle of his pistol pressed into the back of my head. I spit blood on the floor in front of me, breathing hard. Several broken ribs sent searing pain up my chest with every breath. As I stared at the red speckles in front of me, a thought occurred to me. I slid my tongue to the back of my mouth, and sure enough, there it was. A tooth came loose – one I knew had to hold a cyanide capsule – but before I could break it, the soldier grabbed me under the chin.

His hand wrapped around my neck, his thumb and forefinger pressing tightly into the hinge of my jaw. I couldn’t clench my teeth. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t breathe. He lifted me to standing and then shoved me backward – once again, pushing me against the wall. His hand closed tighter as he lifted me to my toes. I couldn’t stop the choking sounds in my throat. I clawed weakly at his titanium wrist in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure at my throat. He shoved his fingers into my mouth, ignoring my attempt to bite him, and retrieved the capsule. It hit the ground with a clink before he crushed it under his boot, and he threw me aside.

I gasped for air, wheezing every breath past my collapsed trachea. I pushed myself up to my knees, only for my arms to give out halfway through. As I crashed into the floor, the soldier crossed the room and stood in the doorway. My vision began blurring, and my head went fuzzy. The soldier called for Ivan over a radio and swung the door shut.

I was in for a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never fear! I added this to a series. More to come on this storyline

I woke up angry, and it didn’t take long to understand why. I was brought out of the freezer to be Hydra’s whore. It was usually a job for Widows, but apparently this guy was better than that.  
He was married. He thought I wouldn’t notice the wedding band in his pocket, but there wasn’t much else to draw my attention. He was much too old for me, but that didn’t bother him in the least. Though, in all honesty, I could have been much too old for him – I had no real idea of my age. And the mission wasn’t entirely unpleasant. He must have been quite the Casanova in his youth. The intel I acquired was invaluable. He gave me all his plans for a business trip to Virginia before his holiday vacation. Of course, he had no idea that I knew the subject of such a visit. He was too eager to show off his connections in the Pentagon. My wide-eyed disbelief was all the convincing he needed to spill everything.   
Men were easy. A half hour and a few bats of your eyelashes, and they’d tell you everything. He intended to meet with an old friend – who would try to talk him out of his trip – before making the trek to Arlington. My handler couldn’t have been more pleased when I relayed that information. I had no idea how the information would be put to use. I had another job. One that was, somehow, just as demeaning and less productive than swapping sex for secrets.   
I tore the Belarusian girl off my back just in time to spin around plant my boot in the trim, German man's chest. He slammed into the wall as I drove my elbow into the nose of the freckled Romanian man. I was weaker than I thought I should be, but I was stronger than them and quite a bit more skilled. I could take two of them in combat. Three was a struggle. Four wasn’t fair. The well-built, dark-haired man – our handler called him Josef – took me to the ground with a thud. He knew how to use his weight to every advantage, and soon he had me securely in a chokehold. I pryed at his thick arm, desperate to break his grip. Each breath was a struggle, but I knew the restriction of my blood flow would incapacitate me before air became a problem. I felt unconsciousness creeping up on me as my muscles grew heavier and my thoughts hazy.  
I woke as the two other men hauled me to my feet, two strong hands wrapped around each of my arms. They held me upright, and my vision came into focus to see Josef smirking behind the Belarusian. She was small framed, but she packed a heavy punch. She took aim at my cheek before throwing another punch into my stomach. She continued until my ribs cracked against her foot, and I coughed up blood. She swapped places with the Romanian, but he only got a few swings in before Josef called it to a stop.  
“Out,” he snarled, jerking his chin toward the door while he unfastened his belt. “She’s mine now.”  
As the others filed out, I let out a breath. “I was beginning to think you hadn’t noticed.”  
He scoffed loudly, brushing his nose up my neck. “You reek of stale sex.”  
“Don’t remind me.” I grimaced as he pushed me backward.  
Although being a Soldier didn’t protect us from the whims of other operatives and agents, it did give us a modicum of independence among each other. As long as it kept us from killing each other – because apparently there had been an incident – our handler didn’t care. I liked Josef well enough, and he got the job done. I assumed he felt the same about me. The Belarusian tended toward the German who preferred the Romanian. I had no interest in the arrangement the three of them worked out.   
His chest pressed against my back, and I slid onto my tiptoes and huffed. “I need you to go lower.”  
Instead, he pulled back and grabbed my hips, spinning me around abruptly. With one hand planted on the wall, he lifted my leg to his hip. I scrambled to free my ankle from my tactical pants, a task complicated by my boot.  
“I’m doing you a favor,” he grunted, snapping his hips forward. “Don’t be picky.”  
A low moan fell from my lips as my eyelids fluttered shut. “This’ll work.”  
The following days passed much the same minus the bail out from Josef. We felt no affection toward each other, and he beat me just as vigorously as the others. It was every man for himself. I lost some, and I won some. I was always able to put one or two on their asses each round. But after a few weeks, the constant combat training stopped. We were called to the lab every day for a week. Our handler said we were being prepped for a medical procedure, but there was no equipment.   
It wasn’t until Karpov showed up that anything happened. I worked with him on my last mission. He was direct and fair – not something I could say about many Hydra operatives. His likeability increased even more when I discovered he had a preference for men. It was a nice change of pace for me, not having to worry with it. His asset couldn’t say the same. I had a connection with his asset, one I couldn’t explain. I told myself it was the cybernetic arm, that we must have met before. But it felt like more than that. It felt like I knew him.  
We waited in the bare testing room, strapped to hospital cots, restrained five different ways. The only freedom of movement we had was the left arm – my right. When the asset led Karpov in, my heart stuttered, but the feeling washed away quickly. Karpov carried a heavy, metal case and strutted through the lab with his asset on his heels. The asset scanned the room, keeping his guard up. Karpov slammed the case onto a table, motioning toward the techs. When he opened the case, my blood ran cold. I didn’t know why. I had no idea what the blue transfusion bags were. But I couldn’t move, and it had nothing to do with the restraints. My gut twisted, and my muscles turned to lead.  
I struggled against the restraints as the techs prepared IVs. I didn’t want it. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did. I growled as they approached and strained as they shoved my shoulder to the bed. They inserted the needle and adjusted the settings on the tube. I knew the second that concoction hit my bloodstream. Ice seeped into my veins, oozing along at a torturous pace. It made my skin prickle and my hair stand on end. My blood tingled, and before long it burned, searing through every inch of my body at lightning speed.  
It hit the other Soldiers shortly after. They’re pained groans suppressed the agony we were all feeling. I could tough it out like them. Grit my teeth and clench my fists. But I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t. So, I threw my head back and screamed until I couldn’t breathe. I thrashed as much as the restraints would allow and let tears coat my face. It wouldn’t end anytime soon, and somehow I knew that too. When a strap over my chest broke, the techs backed away in a hurry, and my handler ordered Karpov's asset to step in.  
His eyes softened as he approached, and I knew I knew him. But I couldn’t remember him. He nudged me gently back down, meeting my distraught gaze with one of his own. His scent hit me like hurricane, sending my mind hurtling through decades of memories. The chemical mixture – the serum – surged through my brain, firing neurons and rebuilding long broken connections. Shudders wracked through me as tears streamed over my cheeks. I didn’t want this.  
The assets fingers brushed over my cheek, and my eyes fluttered open. I snapped the ties at my wrist and broke my arm free.  
“James,” I panted.  
His eyes flickered, and his brow furrowed. I ripped the IV from my arm with a sharp inhale and surged forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. He reluctantly returned the embrace, easily breaking the remaining restraints.   
“I loved you,” I said, more for myself than him.  
He scooped me up gently and carried me out of the room. If I’d been more coherent, I would have noticed Karpov following with the blue transfusion bag. When my back hit the cold, hard metal, my heart sank. My head was still spinning with recovered memories, but I knew this chair.   
“I’m sorry.” His lips brushed my ear as he leaned in. “But I don’t know you.”  
I shook my head and gasped, “No.” Everything hurt.  
A thick cuff latched around each of my wrists, and I kicked James away. Karpov praised his quick thinking and pushed him back toward me. I writhed and twisted, but the serum integration was taking its toll. He pinned me down while Karpov locked in my ankles and resumed my IV. My skin hummed with the disturbance of the air around me. Every nerve in body worked overtime, sending signals to my brain twice or even three times. This would hurt.  
Screams ripped from chest and tore through the room, but I wouldn’t forget. Not this time. Every muscle contracted with each burst, leaving me gasping for air in between. My body contorted, and my heart spasmed. Wave after wave crashed through me until I couldn’t see straight.   
They drugged me, deprived me of sleep, starved me. I was stripped to my underwear and submerged in an ice bath, only let up for a single breath at a time. I was beaten and left bleeding out in an empty concrete room. They left me in a room with no lights until I lost track of time. They subjected me to every form of torture imaginable. Honestly, I didn’t know how long it went on. I often ended up on the floor curled in on myself to protect the important parts. Not that it worked.   
As my handler unhooked my wrists from the chain in the ceiling, my knees wobbled under me. My skin, covered in burns and bruises, ached where I stumbled into the wall. I opened my mouth to yell, but threw up instead. My vision darkened at the edges, and the room turned sideways, but I couldn’t tell if it was in my head or I was actually falling. I coughed up a thick liquid I couldn’t see, and my fingers grasped at the brick.   
I woke up unsure where I was – or who, for that matter. I never really knew that, though. It took me hours to clear my head enough to figure out I was in a medical facility, and I had no idea how I got there. There weren’t many nurses and even fewer doctors. The beds were hard, but the other equipment was advanced. I had an IV in my arm and several wires stuck to my chest. My stomach tightened with a grumble, but there was no food to be found. My best estimation put me in the hospital for three days, but I never knew how long I stayed. Every nap I took could have lasted hours or days. My head pounded too hard to know the difference.  
When I was released, I hit the ground running. Or rather, I hit the ground. Repeatedly. The other Soldiers were stronger than me, and they didn’t seem to like me. They were merciless, teaming up against me in the combat scenarios. I didn’t know them. I couldn’t deserve it. It didn’t matter. There was something about them that made them hyper focused and overaggressive. They had no remorse. Something about them was wild, animalistic. They didn’t fight, they hunted, prepared to kill. They weren’t human, not anymore.  
I squinted to see past my definitely broken brow and cheek bones as I pushed myself to all fours. I couldn’t do it anymore. They were cruel, sadistic. I was probably far from innocent, but I was better than this. Whatever I did, I’m certain I didn’t take pleasure in it. Blood dripped from my nose, splattering on the ground in rusty firework patterns. The image blurred when a kick to my shoulder toppled me to the side. My head slammed into the concrete with a solid thud while another heel jammed into my spine. A different set of hands twisted my aching arm behind my back, leaving my to balance on threes. My bionic arm trembled. Some of the circuits must have been damaged by the impacts. I swayed slowly under my own weight.  
They said we all came from the same chemical cocktail, and I was beginning to feel it. This is what they wanted. Rage boiled in my chest, bubbling through my veins. Every heart beat sent a wave of renewed hatred. They were arrogant and sloppy. I braced for the impact of another blow. They wanted to break me. They had so many times before. Another kick jarred my teeth.  
Not this time. I took a ragged breath, my ribs screaming, and I planted my hand against the floor. I wiped the blood from my lips and glared from under my brow. The next kick to my ribs released a growl I’d never heard before. If I didn’t feel the swell of my own lungs, I wouldn’t have been sure I made it. I lashed out, grabbing the ankle before the Soldier could retract it. She hit the ground hard and fumbled to stand. I ripped the knife from the sheath in her boot and rolled away. As I jumped to my feet, I grabbed my own knife from my thigh.  
The room filled with the clang of metal. The stench of sweat mingled with the rusty smell of blood, making stomach turn. Every slash opened another wound on me or my opponents. I couldn’t afford to miss, and they certainly didn’t. Luck was on my side, and one of the men dropped his knife when I stabbed his thigh. I kicked it nearly out of the room, far enough they wouldn’t waste their time with it. The whole scene was a whirlwind. Even I didn’t know what was happening. I acted on pure instinct.  
As I spun, elbowing the woman in the nose, a stray movement caught my attention. I spun around to follow it and had my knee kicked out from under me. I steadied myself and focused on the newcomer – a man with shaggy hair. I flipped my knife around, and he snatched it out of the air. His eyes met mine and narrowed in recognition. My lips parted as I breathed out the beginnings of a question. But, in an instant, the moment vanished. He turned away, dragging his blade across one of the Soldier’s faces. I returned my attention to the woman in front of me.  
We found a rhythm in the frenzy, whirling around each other to cover every angle. He moved quickly with the kind of skill that only comes from years of experience. And I complemented him perfectly. He twirled his knife into the air, and I was there to grab it, passing it back before he needed it again. We moved like a brilliantly choreographed ballet, somehow always knowing where the other would be. It was beautiful chaos.  
In minutes the other Soldiers laid unconscious or otherwise incapacitated on the floor. I turned to my new partner, breathing heavily.  
“You don’t even know me.”  
His hair whipped at his face when he spun toward me. “But I think I’m supposed to.”  
Before I could say another word, he raced out the door, dragging me behind him. I couldn’t keep up. My body was too sore. My knee was dislocated and a few muscles torn, at least. I weighed him down, despite moving as fast as I could, but he didn’t leave me. He led me down the hall, checking over our shoulders every few seconds, and into a large room – a room with the only window I remembered seeing.  
“This will hurt.” His brow fell, worry showing in his eyes.   
Blinking hard, he turned away and drove his fist through the window. I winced at the crash, and my eyes widened as I looked over the shards at my feet. Thundering boots pulled me from my trance. With a quick glance out the now gaping hole, I determined we were at least three stories up. I swallowed hard and turned back to my partner. The set of his jaw left no room for debate. He held his hand out delicately and helped me climb onto window’s ledge.   
He counted soft but firmly under his breath. On three, we leapt from our places, propelling ourselves as far from the building as we could. We’d need every advantage we could get. He rolled into a graceful recovery the second he hit the ground. I had too many torn muscles to manage a proper landing and instead screeched in pain as the impact jarred my hip out of socket. I crumpled to the ground whimpering and squeezed my eyes shut. His hands slid under my back and legs.   
He cradled me to his chest, still moving quickly. His heat eased the ache creeping into my bones. If it weren’t for the jolt in his hurried gait, I could’ve drifted to sleep in his arms. It could have been a storybook moment if not for the heavily armed, trigger happy, small army chasing us through the woods. Either way, the pain kept eyes closed tightly, which could have been the cause of my oncoming migraine. Although, more than likely it was the series of head injuries I’d received in the last twenty minutes. The buzzing that started in my toes when we jumped, spread up to my knee. Slowly, over the course of a dozen strides or so, tingles bounded up my leg.  
“I can’t,” I panted, squirming in his arms. “My whole leg is numb.”  
Concern washed over his face and he set me down softly, leaning me against a tree. His hand brushed up my thigh and rested at my twisted hip. We both knew it needed to be fixed. The numbness meant it was blocking my circulation. He looked around, wandering only a few steps away and coming right back to my side. I tried to suppress my groans and control the writhing, but it was more than uncomfortable. With one last look, he let out a huff.  
“Lay down.”  
I shuffled to the side with his help and laid flat on my back. He warned me it would hurt like hell, but if I screamed, I’d give away our location. I locked my jaw and nodded sharply. My nails dug into my palm in preparation. He knelt with his back to me and lifted my knee over his shoulder. With one hand around my ankle and one on my shin, he pulled down steadily. Blood oozed from the crescents in my palm as my nails bit into the flesh. I blew air out between my teeth as my hip popped.  
The pain immediately subsided, leaving a mild ache. As I let my breath out and gasped my thanks, my partner reached out a hand to help me up. My weight added strain to my sore leg, but I could walk. Still, he pulled my arm across his shoulders and wrapped his arm around my waist. We covered less ground than before. Someone would find us if I couldn’t move faster. I willed my feet forward, but I couldn’t pick up my pace. After several more minutes, we stopped abruptly.  
“We have to split up.” His eyes searched mine. “Divert their efforts.”  
I shook my head and grabbed his hand.  
“You keep heading south.” His soft voice made my chest tighten. “Get some medical attention. I’ll find you.”  
“No.” I didn’t know him, but I couldn’t let him go.  
His cool, metal hand pressed into my cheek. “You have to keep going.”  
My eyes widened. “They’ll kill you.”  
“I’m not that lucky.” His eyes sparkled at his own joke before they hardened. “I’ll find you again.”  
His thumb brushed softly up my cheek and confliction flickered over his face. He leaned in slightly before he pulled away shaking his head. I tightened my grip on his fingers, but he wiggled them free. His mouth twitched into a smirk before he took off. I watched him disappear between the trees and turned south.   
Hours later, I stumbled onto a rural highway. By some stroke of luck, there was a diner along the road. I wasn’t hungry, but I could steal a car. I had to get out of town fast. Crossing three county lines and getting a room at the fourth motel in the phone book was standard procedure. Instead, I would drive until I found a train station and ditch the car. I didn’t have the cash to buy a ticket, so I’d have to steal another car. I would drive for days if I had to. There was only one person I could trust now.  
The diner had a pay phone with a phonebook. I was closer than I thought. After driving for two days straight, I stared at the white wooden door in front of me. Shuffling behind the door told me the owner was home. The dried blood on my knuckles cracked as I balled my fist. My hip still ached and half my face was still swollen. Slash wounds reopened with ever shift of my weight. I needed to get out of the open.  
The door opened, and she went rigid. That couldn’t be good.  
“I need your help.” My voice shook as I burned off the last drop of adrenaline. “Peggy, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
